Of House and Home
by goddessa39
Summary: What if a Weasley, a muggleborn, and the BWL were sorted into Slytherin? And with good reason? A tale about adjustment and they evolvement thier actions. Dark! ManipDumbles. HHrR eventually.
1. Prologue Chapter 1

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**Title:**

●Of House and Home●

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own the HP world-that clearly belongs to JK Rowling. However, this fic is mineminemine and no anyone else's. The idea though I got from other fics.

**Cannon:**

Harry Potter

**Character:**

Dark-Slytherin-Powerful-Harry-Ron-Hermione, Manipulative Dumbledore, etc.

**Pairings:**

Harry/Hermione/Ron Trio Love.

**Genre:**

Dark/Fantasy.

**Rating**:

M for Mature. There will be sexual references but no actual written NC17 sex… most likely.

**Timeline:**

AU Pre-Hogwarts and on.

**Summary:**

What if a Weasley, a muggleborn and the Boy-Who-Lived were sorted into Slytherin?

**AN:**

This is not originally my idea. This is off a few others that have been created, (though I don't think there are any actual completed) and I have liked the idea.

**AN**:

Harry's real name is Hadyn and he despises being called Harry because he's never been called that and everyone has labeled him such without even a by-your-leave. I will be referring to Harry as both Hadyn and Harry. I repeat: Harry and Hadyn are one in the same. They are one person, the same person, and the only difference is which name is called.

**Currency**

_Black Kort-4 Paiges-$33,524US_

_Red Paige-100 Galleons-$8381US_

_Gold Galleon-17 Sickles-$83.81US_

_Silver Sickle-493 Bronze Knuts-$4.93US_

_Bronze Knut-$0.01_

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●**Prologue**●

On the late night of Halloween in 1981 the current Dark Lord, going by the name 'Voldemort' at the time, had heard a prophecy. Choosing to go after the one as pure as himself, though he didn't tell his servants why he chose which to kill in person, the half-blood master of the dark arts crashed into Godric's Hollow, the summer home under Fidelius of the Potter's, and proceeded to kill the members of that family.

First he killed the father, a two-minute duel and a lucky "Avada Kedavra" properly sending him over to the afterlife. His menacing figure made its way to the second floor, coming to the nursery. The mother might have been able to get away if she hadn't sniffled, but it alerted him right away and he broke the door down like a raging bull, all too eager to finish the babe off before he was grown and at least had a chance to defeat him or cause him a nuisance.

He taunted the mother and she begged for her son's life, not really caring if she herself died any longer. Her true hope that maybe just maybe her son would live was failing her and a great feeling of betrayal spread through her heart. Peter Pettigrew had betrayed them and now it was too late to apologize to their other friends for not really trusting in them. Only Moony and Padfoot knew that Peter was their secret keeper. She hadn't even been able to tell Alice.

Voldemort decided to just get it over with, and he shot a killing curse towards the mother and her son (finishing off two birds with one stone) but something odd happened. It surrounded them both, and the mother died.

But the son did not. Instead, a curse scar was formed on the babe's forehead, a lightning bolt shape bleeding slightly. The green light, having no where to go as it hadn't taken it's second intended, shot opposite the scar and ran straight at the Dark Lord. It was simply a 'wrong place at the wrong time' thing. Such occurrences could happen to anyone really. Voldemort didn't have a chance as the coincidence of the bounce from babe to murderer affected everything.

The house fell around them, the killing curse causing shock waves from the soiled body. He was no longer human but a wraith, a piece of a man, the soul so dark and unready to go on the not even the offer of becoming a poltergeist would have had any effect.

A large man by the name of Hagrid came by and stepped over the two bodies and the ashy bits left of the Dark Lord Voldemort curiously searching for something. He wasn't the smartest man but he truly had a kind heart. He found the little babe with the body of his mother standing over protecting him only to discover a small plot of blood on the head, and the baby crying furiously though there was no actual whining.

Taking him away, he ran into the babe's two godfathers, but didn't relinquish him to the rightful place, stating that Dumbledore had ordered him to give him to no one but himself. The two men gave up the flying motorbike and ran off towards the house to find the bodies. Hagrid flew up into the sky and heard the mourning howl of a dog and his wolf. He didn't turn like his heart wanted but he kissed the babe who wasn't smiling, though seemed to be shocked into silence in the sky.

Landing in Surrey, on Privet Dr., He met up with Albus Dumbledore and handed little Hadyn (Harry?) J. Potter over to find a cat sitting on a fence looking in on a house. The cat turned only to turn into the head of Gryffindor House. They talked and Minerva insisted against what he was about to do. Albus Dumbledore was adamant though that he be placed with his last blood family and get a chance at childhood. The Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts butted heads with the old man, but he would have his way even if he had to Compulse her and all of his staff about staying away.

It was adamant that young Hadyn be there.

The spirit pf Lily Roselyn Potter cursed Albus Dumbledore in this moment.

It was also when the child was first called "Harry" and by the Chief Warlock of Wizengamot as well. His parents and dogfathers had never called Hadyn such a name, though it fit his hair. They had called him their nicknames for him, 'Hadyn' as such was his name, or 'Hade' for short. This odd name of 'Harry' was inwardly questioned by Minerva but as to her inferior to Dumbledore's class, she had no way to say anything, but to magically follow Albus.

And in the end, the little boy was left on the doorstep of Number 4. This door was to be the hero of the wizarding world's doom. Years went by and Minerva ached to see the boy that had called her 'Auntie Minnie Kitty' in his baby ways. How he knew she was a cat before she showed him her form, she'd never know.

…When children are born, they grow and journey into adulthood, a slow process with many stepping stones. This adventure happens to all children. There are steps that normal development seem to follow or hit like road blocks on a freeway. But as many have found, these also vary quite differently.

Wizarding children talk earlier and walk earlier most of the time, bigger stepping stones one might say; their magic pushes them on and helps them to develop. They reach maturity at the age of sixteen, though it differs for Lords and orphans. At fifteen, on their birthday, a coming-of-age called The Maturity takes place in which they are in pain, and according to blood rights and power levels, the amount of time can differ, the usual time being an hour or two. At seventeen they are officially adults.

Hadyn James Potter was a magical child and he was from a number of great and powerful families. But as his parents were dead and the world ignorant to the wants and needs of the child, he was left elsewhere. His childhood consisted of most stepping stones of an angry, enslaved, abused adult. But in this childhood he didn't hit some of the stepping stones he should have, as well as hitting some that he shouldn't have as well.

Fate and Destiny stood their grounds but things were twisting and turning and the early life of the Boy-Who-Lived was not happy or considered a childhood at all. The unboy's eyes were far older than they should have been. Destiny and Fate were washed away from where they should have been by this existing existence, and Hope was not present.

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**TBC**

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Okay, how did you like the prologue. This will be slow to posting but I have a few small chapters written up already. This is just the pro-piece to get your interest piqued. REVIEWS ARE NICE! more chapters possible.


	2. Chapter 2

●**Chapter One**●

When a boy grows as a slave to a family that despises him because of his magic, his age is younger than his eyes project and he grows weary. He is unwanted and those that should love him abhor him and proceed to gradually break his spirit. His aunt ignores his uncle when Vernon uses him as his personal prostitute. Though young, Dudley Dursley takes after his dad by the time he is nine. Harry doesn't know of his magic and as such, he has no way to defend himself. Petunia Dursley looks the other way and slaps him around when she feels like it. All he has is _his cupboard_ and that holds mixed feelings. The boy becomes the Dursleys' secret while his life becomes his own.

When a girl grows up knowing her parents hadn't wanted children, but then changed their mind, hoping for a son, she learns to hate herself. She is never good enough and her want of knowledge is expanded and she grasps what she can by the hand. Her father comes home drunk one night and he touches her in a way that isn't right. It's not yet rape but she can feel the stirring in his eyes. She wishes dearly for a way out and then she turns eleven. The girl learns to savor the time away. She is alone though and the people around her make fun of her for this. Her dentist parents won't fix her teeth. They are her secret from the world that hurts her just the same.

When a boy is silenced by someone he doesn't recognize he has no other way to go on but to submit. His memories are sparked out and there are secrecy charms woven around him. He fears going to the bright orange room he once loved and his family can't see him fading before their eyes, as he won't let them see it. He doesn't know who that rump man is but Scabbers frightens him more than spiders now, the goosebumps traveling up his spine are noticeable. He has become a good actor and a dreads going to his room. When he is lucky, he will fall asleep downstairs or he can crawl in with his sister in pretense for her own nightmares that are normal compared to his own. That room he once loved is now his secret. The Chudley Cannons he has a childish love for but he is afraid of bright orange.

Three children bearing the weight of lives that shouldn't be are about to experience change, beginning with a letter to each of them with the Hogwarts Crest. The girl feels hope. One boy feels relief. The other boy feels a curiosity and shoves his hope away because he will not want where he will easily be denied. If he wants he will only be disappointed.

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One person can lead the world, but a group of people become stupid. Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. If there is a large population in a society, ignorance is bliss and the economy gains a different scale value of human welfare with ultimate lows that are largely ignored by the normal populace.

Hadyn James Potter was an odd boy to be sure. There seemed to be an aura around him that hinted at secrets to make one look at him and praise him- an undercurrent was also there though that wanted, begged everyone to see him and help him and take him away from the pain, but everyone looked away because they weren't going to help.

His green eyes were once so very bright and they had looked at the world and waited for someone kind to help him. The green would still on someone and to the watched it felt like he could see right through them and know their darkest secrets. This unsettled many and spurred on their thoughts that he was just a trouble maker and that the Dursley family forced to house him were such good caretakers to take on such a boy. Hadyn wishes that they had left him in an orphanage.

Many would claim he had the most alluring eyes. He didn't know why they thought he was anything more than a freak when he was young. No one ever came, or if they did they mysteriously never came back. The sheeple of the world passed over their savior, greedy for their own lives and not sparing a moments notice for him.

Harry's hair was a darkest black with straight bits curving around one another and then sticking together as if piles of burnt hay. They shot out randomly like a permanent bed head and he could do nothing to help it. It wouldn't flatten though sometimes he would get lucky and it would just spike for him. When his aunt cuts it, his hair simply grows back the exact same. He likes it because he thinks that maybe, just maybe he got it from his father.

He dreams and in those dreams he is small and tiny with baby fists. His parents are there and he wishes that it really was them. But when he dreams of only his mother all he can do is remember her green eyes that match his own and the matching blinding light that took her away.

His aunt and uncle teach their son how to handle him and they are sure he knows how drunk and jobless his parents were, a whore and a freak just like his parents. They were ugly, he hears, terrible people bent on hurting others. They died in a car crash and by some abominable twist of fate he is given to them to mold. He is theirs he knows, to do with as they please. Sometimes he feels inhuman and old without experience and with experience others are lucky enough never to have. He doesn't feel dirty, he feels like the dirt itself.

He knows they weren't because he has this dream where his parents and two others are playing with him as a baby and he hopes beyond hope that this happened. And he wishes someone would come and take him away.

He was almost six years old when that understanding took hold. It was then he learned to count only on himself. He didn't want to stay here, but as soon as he could he'd get a job somewhere and live on the streets if he had to. He'd rather die on his own regulations than sit and let the Dursleys warp him further, like an already bent piece of tuber ware put into the fire. But until then, he sat and waited. He was impatient inside but he had grown with the patience, the fleeting hope that there would come a time when he could finally simply _be_ was near and the faster it came the quicker it would disappear.

And then, when he was almost eleven, an odd letter was slipped to him much like the parchments he had seen in the museums when he had been information gathering. He needed all the help he could have gotten, as one never knew what would come in handy.

When Hagrid came and picked him up, Hadyn found he liked the kind man, though honestly he thought that Hagrid wasn't really all that smart. He was nice though, brought him a cake, and though he didn't eat it-it was the thought that counted. After a shocking few hours, Hadyn managed to convince the kindly half-giant to let him stay at the Leaky Cauldron, room 83. When the burly man left, the eleven year old snuck away into the shops and centers he would probably not have much of a chance to see again when he left.

The vault he entered in Gringotts that Hagrid had taken him to was full and would let him live with out want for anything. He took a few good handfuls, though he honestly had no idea how much he truly took out. There were galleons which were gold, sickles in silver, and Knuts in a bronze. 1 galleon is to 17 sickles as 493 Knuts equal out. It was a simple enough. But there was also a black and red coin. Although the other coins had no real reason for being as such, a red Paige was exactly one hundred galleons (733 US dollars), and a black Kort was exactly four hundred galleons (2932 US dollars).

He'd be amazed later on to learn that this account was only his set up for when he was in school. That would soon be followed by a raging curiosity and anger, but he wasn't there yet. He had far too little knowledge on this other economy to be comfortable. The goblins gave him a sack to carry his money that was only available to him as the owner of the vault and those he trusted it with-which was definitely nil.

Hagrid had taken him around to get the basics that his letter had requested of him including a basic trunk. But on a stroll he found a small shop called "All-Purpose Portmanteaus." He had time to spare and this looked interesting enough. There was only one other customer and neither paid the other much mind. The girl in her mid-thirties he guessed left without anything so he was alone. It took him an hour for a good enough explanation to even consider buying such a trunk, and in the end he custom ordered one, not only because the already made cases had parts in them already, but because the notes said that any information about them being made would be destroyed.

Personally he thought it was a stupid thing to publicly say, but he could use that level of stealth and he planned on storing everything in the self-shrinking trunk which he would keep on himself. He figured he'd make it look like some type of necklace until the man gave him a list of charms and a few papers showing what he wanted personalized. Harry notarized it and then picked over thirty-nine extra charms to be interwoven into his future trunk. He was truly amazed when he found he could have so many special charms and alternative spots and locked sections, and then room enough for mansions inside that he could literally live in.

An idea was beginning to form in his mind about that. But as he still knew very little, he couldn't depend on only the trunk.

He got his tab for the large order that came out to 221 galleons, 14 sickles, and 2 knuts, roughly 1626 US dollars. He tried to keep his Paiges and Korts separate. He figured if he needed to buy a house or apartment, he'd down-payment on a Kort that would cover his rent. The concept that he had actual money to spend was still something he wasn't fully comfortable with, but he had plans in plans laying out that he wasn't even aware of yet.

He jumped at the bookstore and bought over a Paige worth of books, which evidently pleased the counter man who gave him a discount for the rest of his life when he wanted literature. His natural charm was paying off. And he found that when he didn't remember that his scar was there, no one seemed to see it, which pleased him greatly as it had always been a despicable thing to him. Dudley had poked and prodded at it often.

The glasses he got when he was younger still sat on his head. He didn't need them anymore, as he had been temporarily blind when he needed them thanks to an injury, but they were a type of safety blanket, almost as if he could look at them, then he wouldn't have to see the world.

Apparently, everyone knew he had glasses.

So he took them off. No one recognized him anymore.

Maybe someone had charmed his eyes to be bad.


	3. Chapter 3

●**Chapter Two**●

The next day he talked to the goblins about how he could get a credit card for it. To his shame at first they didn't know what he was talking about. But he explained what he could to the one that was currently speaking to him (who just happened to be a surprised Griphook whose name he spoke without the knowledge that many don't remember their names) and gave them the idea. There were family bank scripts, which were basically scrolls with the amount of money they owed when a family didn't carry as much as they needed to pay on them at all times.

He spent the first few days just looking around the alley, even making his cloaked way through Knockturn a few times. When he only had five days left though, he ventured into the muggle world, buying clothes that actually looked good and fit. Although he had the phoenix core wand from Olivander's, he only used one of the seven basic wands he picked up from a pawn shop. The wand maker had informed him that wands were tracked by the Ministry, so he wouldn't be able to use magic when not at school.

It made no sense to him but he was already coming to find how backwards this other world was.

He shook his head at how easy it was to find an untraceable wand. It was a wonder he didn't see kids doing magic all around him. A miscellaneous book with everyday or odd spells was interesting for Hadyn to spend some free time on. Hadyn particularly liked putting offensive words on his shirts, usually glow-in-the-dark blue and green on dark shirts. "The Sheeple am not I" and "I can please on person a day. Today is not your day and tomorrow isn't looking especially promising" were some of the taglines he spelled onto his shirts.

At the Dursley's home, he had read many a book that had just simply lain around. The library broadened his vocabulary. He was always enthralled in fiction though, and the magics the books had told about in adventures put ideas into his head, especially that bit on reading peoples' minds. He knew a little of 'finding his center' with meditation but the possible threat that someone could look into his head made him wary. Picking through his books, it took him an hour to find a reference to Occlumency and the actual offender, Legillimency. Once he read into he rapidly paled and decided to dig right into becoming an Occlumens after some brief reads into his school books.

A book with random facts and things shared that Severus S. Snape was a most-hated professor at Hogwarts. He also learned that the man was a Master at both arts and thought a death eater, though it hadn't been proven. Apparently Albus Dumbledore also had a hand at both Occlumency and Legillimency.

Basically, his mind was a mess of everything that had ever happened to him and everything he knew. Deciding how to catalogue it was difficult but he hadn't gotten to that yet. It would take a while to review everything. First though, the ability to keep people out, he needed some kind of shield. Instead of just confusing people when they looked into his head, he actually took some magic from his core and wove it running into the mind shield, picturing it as if it was his cranium with all of the little bits. It took him up unto the last day to finish it to where he could successfully hide his thoughts, even though he still didn't have everything reviewed and gone over. He'd be able to do that later though. No one would look through his thoughts and read his mind. It had always been his one escape and it would continue to be.

Harry's plans were firmed when he found that "_Harry Potter the 'Boy-Who-Lived lives with three muggle relatives on Number __4 Privet Drive_" according to page 162. It wasn't only creepy but inwardly a threat to both his privacy and his self-survival. Shouldn't it be illegal to place information out like that when anyone could find it?!

Although Hagrid had informed him a little on what went on the night his parents died, he was still utterly curious and almost crazy in his search for actual facts about it. If this world placed his address at the Dursleys, then what else would be in books? Unsurprisingly, Facts For The Heck Of It became one of the tomes he simply laid where he could get them. A small drawer was included in his trunk for hundreds of books to be shuffled appropriately in, but he didn't have it yet. It still needed to be finished.

As he filled his mind with facts about this magical world, the further he was uneased by the way people seemed to know him only by his scar. It wasn't currently on his head he knew so no one really paid him any mind more than a young heir of a Lording family, even if there was no one with him. He either never gave his name, or he made up one.

With three days left, he was called to Gringotts to discuss the idea of magical credit cards. He didn't know all that much about them in the muggle way, but he had a book on banking from one of the non-magical libraries. When he'd looked it up in "Bordering Books" he'd laughed. Even as neglected and unusual as Hadyn was, even he could see that half of their facts were just plain wrong. He'd slipped over to the non-magical "Borders" bookstore and bought plenty of muggle books from there just for his quickly growing library.

With three goblins in the room, odd things slipped out of his mouth that confused them, leading to the conclusion that he had no idea about his family, which served to anger the goblins. Files they dug up stated that his magical guardian -Hadyn had no idea he had one- was Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore. Hadyn's instincts screamed that something was wrong and if he thought there was a chance that he'd have trusted the Legilimens, it was completely gone now.

His parents' will was dug up and it became apparent that the last wishes of his parents had been simply ignored. The last wishes of witches and wizards were considered a very important thing, something the Weasleys would even regard respectfully for the Malfoys.

It was engraved in bloodlines that those last thoughts should be followed even if unhappily. The simple disrespect that the Supreme Mugwump (Hadyn assured himself that he'd study politics as well soon) had showed was enough to drive all the goblins in the room to a simply horrifying anger. Hadyn managed to sit still and look unaffected though he admitted to himself that it was really scary, freaky enough to put Vernon to shame and make him look like a perfectly normal man.

The goblins, Griphook (his newly appointed vault manager), Ragnok (the English Gringotts Head goblin), and Sunkik (the Head of New Accounts goblin) invited both Serdik (The now-ex Potter accounts manager) and Genlik (the Head of Heirs and Inherited Affairs goblin) into the room. Serdik was automatically arrested by the goblin guards (which were prime warriors in goblin magic and goblin physical fighting and defense) and ordered to trial for wrong doing in high class vaults and then some. Since it was getting late, Hadyn was ushered into another room in which he was informed time stopped. This way he could spend all the time he needed talking to them and being informed, and no time would pass.

The first thing he asked was why they spoke about accounts instead of just one, and then went to ask about 618. Wasn't that his account? The goblins decided to give him a crash course in the way things were run, and then on his family. Three hours later, he was tired. He'd never know until a while from now that he had been the only human since the last goblin friend in 1043 who happened to be one of the Founders' grandchildren by the name of Mayla Hufflepuff. He was given a room with quite a comfy bed and he slept for over six hours, which was a long time for him.

He awoke and then made his way back to the chamber, politely greeting the many goblins that walked by even if they didn't know his name. Entering the white walled room he took his spot at the dark brown chair he had sat in and digested information seven hours earlier in his own time. Then he digested an hour's worth of more facts and disciplines, swearing he'd look up half of them just to make sense of some of this conversation that he wasn't understanding.

And _then_ he was given a needle to poke his finger and safely determine that there weren't anymore surprises. Hadyn had given up any hope of being normal that he might have had before all the names popped up on the flat parchment imbibed with secret goblin magic.

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**Classes**:

Heir to Lord x2

Heir to High Lord x0

Lord x15

High Lord x9

Misc. Heirs x10

**Current Lord or Heir: 26**

Adamski (default)

Aries (successor. Friend of Winged.)

Ashades (successor. Friend of moon and sky.)

Black HEIR (successor current by default)

Blaike (default)

Carlock (successor.)

Chmelyk (Ravenclaw ties)

Dudek/Dursley (default muggle)

Emrys (Merlin, See Lefay )

Evans (Slytherin ties. Matriarchal name. Hidden Serpitongue users)

Le-Emra (Myrrdin/Merlin)

Esistisille (Direct Slytherin. Friend of Serpents.)

Forbes (successor)

Griffin (Gryffindor ties)

Huffes (Direct Hufflepuff. Friend of Beasts. Beastspeak hidden.)

Ives (marriage)

Lefay (Morganna. Default by Merlin)

Mercier (marriage)

Morrigan (Direct Ravenclaw)

Penn (Slytherin ties)

Pennell (successor)

Pettigrew (default declared dead in 11/2/81)

Poole (default)

Potter (Direct Gryffindor. Friend of Fire. Patriarchal Name.)

Riddle (Slytherin ties by default Parseltongue users)

Starr (successor. Friend of Star and Night.)

Szymanski (default)

Ward (successor. Goblin Friend line.)

**Heading Ties: 13**

Black Heir (default godson see 'Sirius O. Black')

Corinthus (correspondence. Friend of Sun and Shine)

Chmelyk (cousins)

Dumbledore (for crimes)

Flamel (cousins. Correspondence. Friend of Fins.)

LaFlamboy/Malfoy (by marriage Narcissa)

Lestrange (by marriage Bellatrix)

Longbottom (not Heir. Godmother. Correspondence. Friend of Earth.)

McGonagall (Ravenclaw ties. Correspondence.)

Sidjek (correspondence)

Tonks (by marriage, by Black muggle Andromeda)

Vogel (cousins)

Wright (cousins)

Zajac (cousins)

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…He was expecting the oddities to happen, as he always tended to be different. But when he saw the lists of names and titles, he just stared. He expected _Potter_, obviously. The _Evans_ was a surprise but only slightly. His last thought for a few minutes was how his aunt and uncle would react to being of magical blood though they didn't wield it themselves.

He made a mental note to check back every few years to make sure they didn't have any more children.

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TBC.

Okay, this has been sitting there for a while. I figured that I might as well post something for you. It's just a little bit, but I hope it assures you that I am still here to work with it...


	4. Chapter 4

●**Chapter Four**●

Hermione Jane Granger despised her name. She wasn't chosen to represent the feminine sides of the God Hermes, God of good luck and speed. In fact, she didn't believe she even had those characteristics in her blood. And she wasn't named after the wife of Leontes in Shakespeare's "A Winter's Tale". She had no real friends around to think up some kind of nickname for her and frankly, it was a mouth full.

There was nothing else to say about it, really. And "Hermy" was definitely out of the question. And then that was just to make fun of her and taunt. She's learned to close her ears and eyes now away from most of it. But she's still fragile to the vicious sharks that are the humans around her bent on causing destruction for themselves.

And she hated her hair, the bushy average brown that would only frizz. Then when she tried to do something to it her hair knotted and frizzed further. It was ugly and people called her names like "beaver face" and "bushy beaver" because her teeth weren't fixed like they should have been. Her eyes were odd too. When she was little they were on odd brown, turning yellow by the time she could think. Now they were a light lazuli purple that was odd for anyone.

She hates her feet because they're perfect for her, smoothe but callused on the bottom. She's walked on glass when her father broke a window in her room with a rock. She doesn't mind it now though as the pain feels good. They're not horribly disfigured or too big or too small. It gives no sign as to her state as an outcast.

She rubs her wrists and unconsciously glances to the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, a small alcove room the size of a walk-in closet connected to her room and her room alone. It's taunting her; tempting her to do what she feels will make her feel better.

She's still surprised that her parents left it to her instead of giving her the smaller guest room. It would provide more room for them and their exploits. She ignores the pounding two rooms away and puts her CD player over her ears, and puts the sound all the way up so she won't feel any vibration but the tremors coming from the music. The small TV at the end of the bed is playing countless cartoons and it gives her something to smile at.

She hates her smile and her lips and her face because she can't stand to see them in the mirror, because then she'd have to see her eyes that betrayed her feelings when she did so. Looking into the eyes of another would only let them see what she had long learned to show.

But it just made her another freak in a crowd and not someone special. She loves her eyes though. Her mother (Janet) had light brown eyes and her father (John) had dark brown eyes. The brown hair was inherited but they had straight to her frizzy bush. If she didn't already hate them, then it would just be a frustration but she hates them for many reasons, making her among them.

She felt herself sinking into a depression when she started irrationally thinking that she wouldn't make any friends because she wanted to always read, and then when you got her going on about the books she couldn't even shut herself up. Maybe it was because her secrets wanted out and the only way to keep them down were to say something else.

Anyway, when she got a letter to some special school she was just confused. Magic? _Don't make me laugh_-she's not stupid. Spells and unicorns don't exist. It's against the laws of physics and the third dimensional properties of all life.

And then a man who pays her no heed but keeps his voice and most of his stance polite comes and knocks on their door claiming all kinds of things. His clothing is weird, noticeably odd. A short-sleeved shirt and short black pants were okay, but the tropical pink blouse shown with the feminine shoes and blocky stripes tell the residents of one particular house that the man is odd far more then his claim of magic.

And then he enters their house and her parents pay her no hateful eye, although she's sure they will say something when the odd man leaves. A stick is shown and waved and all of a sudden the coffee table is in the middle of the room, literally. It's no longer touching on the floor but bobbing side to side, wobbling noticeably. The glass half full with what this man doesn't know is strong brandy makes tinkling sounds as its sides hit the glass slightly many times in the silence that stretches.

The man explains, taking their reactions not for what they are and although she has rising hopes for this other world of magic that will take her away, she knows there is nothing she can do for this night and every night following and maybe that hints at what she hopes with all her might are not true.

A week later her parents grudgingly take her to this 'Leaky Cauldron' place to show that they're being proper parents to the world and they publicly faun over her as if she's this precious thing to them. But they don't like her and she doesn't respect them. They might have conceived and 'brought her up proper like' but she doesn't really consider them her parents. She feels like she's thirty in kid shoes.

The letter she got explains the use of pets and she enters the only shop she can find nearby. Glancing around, she doesn't want a bird because then others may ask why she doesn't write her folks. She is leaving home as soon as she can and maybe this is the closest she can get right now. She'll take it if she can.

An orange cat fancies her attention and he looks lazy with his flat face and large body. But there is something there, maybe a rebellion. But her parents follow, the jail keepers making sure she stays put and that she doesn't grab unnecessary expensive items. Hermione has already grabbed enough books. It's the only thing her parents let her buy in bulk. Maybe that's reason enough to relish the experience.

She has one last look at the fluffy orange cat practically purring for her affection, her's alone. She's nearly dragged out and away from this magical place back into that house that is her house but not her home. She is homeless with a roof over her head. She doesn't really have a home except maybe insider he imagination.

She would have named the cat something odd. _Crookshanks._ But she lets the thoughts fall away.

She can't wait to leave for Hogwarts even if she doesn't make a single friend.

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He wakes up from another nightmare to the smell of his mother's cooking. Carefully, he extracts himself from his bed and looks around. Chudley Cannons posters are hanging around his bright room. He's learned not to blink. The carpet is a bright red and the walls are painted in magically bright orange. The large poster in front of his bed shows two members swerving away from a bludger, the view changing randomly as the picture Cannons play Quidditch.

The boy's red hair is the same as the rest of his family's but his eyes are a starkly contrasted blue. He is the sixth son and his only younger sibling is a girl. He's going to Hogwarts the next day and the only thing he truly looks forward to is falling asleep on the couch in the living room this night so he doesn't have to see this too-bright room covered in the darkness of secrets and despair.

His nose leads him up but he smartly enough makes sure all his important things are packed and ready for the next day's ride away from the Burrow. His hand-me-down trunk is placed behind the door and anything important isn't left in the room besides a pair of clothing for today and his robe for tomorrow.

Ronald B. Weasley makes it downstairs just as his mother calls his full name and he winces. His first name is annoying but his middle name he hates. Why couldn't she have given it to Bill, his eldest brother? It was practically already his name, Bill, Billius. Ron knew that Bill despised being called 'William' so it worked out fine.

There are strawberry pancakes awaiting his mouth and he gobbles seven up. His family follows though only his tall, already grown father eats nearly as much as he does. Ron is a growing boy with quite an appetite. The syrup drowns in the cooked bread his wonderful mother makes for them, sure to make enough for all the Weasley appetites.

He spends his last day out by the pond skipping stones and catching frogs. He sees the rat that wonders their property that one of his elder brothers caught and named Scabbers. He gets the creeps whenever he looks at it but his mother insists that he take it with him. He honestly plans on leaving it at the house claiming he forgot it.

He doubted his mother would honestly mail an animal, especially with the owl they had. Errol was so old and decrepit he was surprised it hadn't just plain died on him yet. About to be in his fifth year, Percy Weasley, the third child, had made prefect. Molly and Arthur Weasley had bought him an owl for his "well done" present. Percy named the large brown owl, Hermes. The third boy was stuck up in his room often. Ron privately suspected that he was constantly writing Penelope Clearwater, whose name slipped out of the older boy on accident, occasionally.

Ginny comes to play with him at random times. The only girl Weasley since before recorded history has a fondness for trouncing through the flower patches that randomly control parts of the Weasley land. The Weasley family has long gone without the riches that most purebloods have at their beck and call, and Ron was honestly kind of sick of it, though he'd never say such a thing. He was the youngest boy and everything he received had most likely once belonged to his elder brothers at one time or another. His sister was lucky in that aspect. There were no girls to inherit from and she got all new things. But he loved her just the same.

The last day of his pre-Hogwarts life ended slowly for the boy who wasn't really a boy. His demeanor was different from all of his family and he couldn't say why. As much as he loved the other eight, he would have thought long ago that maybe they would have noticed something off. But he'd had this fear longer then he had not. His actions were his own and no one explained it differently.

He slept on the couch that night and didn't have to see his room alone.

He went to Hogwarts without the rat, ideas and thoughts heavy on his head. He was about to take a step into the next great cycle of life. He would leave his sister in this life behind.

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TBC

It has come to my attention that many people are bothered by the whole cliche heir thing. But I will assure you that though this might be eventual-super, might be, Harry isn't going to immediately gain a hundred thousand allies.


	5. Chapter 5

●**Chapter Five**●

He woke early, almost five o' clock. Glad that he didn't have to be in the heavy uniform yet, he took his last chance for the new muggle side he was finally able to experience first hand and he had new blue Sketchers accentuating a new dark blue pair of jeans with a long sleeved dark purple shirt. In white writing it had, "So You Want To Be A Wizard? It's Harder To Be A Kid" on it in glow-in-the-dark white. He had read the book and gladly magicked that across with his Ministry-tracked wand. Only a few knew it in time, but the charm wasn't activated until first year at the Hogwarts feast. As such, he could use it and Avada Kedavra a few people and no one would be the wiser that it was his wand.

A small vial in his trunk assured him that he'd be able to keep any of the other charms in the food out of his system, just in case. Though pricey, Hadyn though it would be bloody worth it. Hogwarts might be the most wonderful school this side of the continent, but he wasn't going to be poisoned at the institute just because 99.9 percent of the population thought it safe to eat food not specifically picked by those eating it.

A small bottle of holy water was safely tucked away in one of his pockets. One drop of it in any liquid or food would spread and corrupt anything there that shouldn't have been. It worked like a cleanser on magic, and might have been a reason that pilgrims burnt witches and wizards at the stake.

He made it down the stairs after packing the very few things he had out away. Making sure to tip Tom, he ate a breakfast that looked like a snack to anyone caring to watch. Luckily, none but Tom himself knew exactly who he was, so there were no crowds rushing him. He shivered at the thought. He didn't like being touched. More then one or two people in a room at one time really freaked him out. There were problems he knew he had and then more that he either just didn't know of or wouldn't admit to.

When Hagrid came it was still quite early so Tom made the boy that was older than a boy a jelly sandwich. He loved fruit, especially strawberries though he didn't show it. He'd never gotten a chance to either. The few times he had been gifted with such had led to horrible events. Hadyn thanked Tom and then left with the half giant, Hedwig on his right shoulder and a cage Hadyn never planned to use in his hand, Hadyn took his chest and pressed the button that automatically shrunk it.

Hadyn Potter made sure to get to the station early. Hagrid told him how to get on, which was mostly self explanatory anyway as he had read through Hogwarts A History and scanned various parts of it multiple times. It gave away bits and pieces including how to get there step by step with hints through the years. The portal through the wall to catch the Hogwarts Express was in the front, like a guide. He wondered why others didn't know such a thing, or if that was the point of getting the book in the beginning anyway.

Anyone with half a brain would have read through Hogwarts A History if they were going to the school and knew very little about this world.

He said goodbye to Hagrid and the half giant petted Hedwig some before leaving, tearfully. Hadyn was really starting to like the burly bearded man but his emotional state was really kinda scary, and the opposite to his own. Harry rarely sowed emotion, and then only to his own self, and now Hedwig. He cares for her. He won't think 'love'.

He watches the sun rise for the first time when he is not hurt and truly angry. Usually he is in his cupboard or making the breakfast for the three Dursleys. This seems to capture him in an emotion he can't name and he is glad only Hedwig is around to see it. He thinks that maybe he would have yelled and hurt someone if they had seen some emotion foreign to him and told someone.

Emotions are things for those in society, and he feels all there is to do is block it out. Love is new to him but he thinks constantly of his new Hedwig, his mother owl, so he can keep it off his face and away from his heart on the shoulder.

It's almost seven in the morning when he finishes taking a look around the train, searching for secrets and making sure he was safe. The conductor was sitting on a bench reading the Daily Prophet. His beard was just an inch and not to swiftly. The man was kind and unlocked the train. He told Harry that birds usually weren't allowed uncaged on the train so he told the man that she had been trained to stay on his shoulder. He hated cages. It wasn't necessarily totally true, but it passed for enough and the conductor allowed it. Harry gave Hedwig an extra treat for the lie so that she wouldn't be offended, and she nipped his fingers lovingly.

Scouting around, he found he was truly the first student there. He met the snack lady loading up her bins and paid earlier for some things, just a few of everything and then more for things that looked special. He was glad he had gone grocery shopping the day before for muggle food. He'd had some butter beer but he needed variety. A few hundred dollars worth (it had been quite shocking to the register lady) provided him with a year's worth of snacks and things he could store away. He still wasn't used to eating much but he could have small amounts throughout the day safely. But the magical cooler he'd bought would keep his stuff cool and fresh.

He made sure to get the room farthest from the front entrance, tucked away in a corner. There was an emergency exit on his end if he needed to leave quick, and a bathroom about three doors down for conveniency. If he was right, which he usually was, the seats in the last were newer than some of the others, and a tad bigger with some more space as well. It was the last in a column so any room left over was included in this little cubicle.

His trunk was in his pocket instead of where the trunks of many of the other students would go to during the ride. He wasn't going to let anyone have a chance at scanning and magicking his things if he could help it. He was keeping everything he owned with him.

It was a while before anyone else was at the station, but he was absorbed in the Occlumency book by then, so he didn't pay it much mind. A sound alerted him and he looked up at the intruder. A red headed boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose looked at the lone boy. "Um, hi. Most of the other compartments are already taken, and I was wondering if I could sit here until we got to Hogwarts."

It was a blatant lie as only a few of the other compartments were taken, but he had parameters to look for and needed the last room on the tram of six to choose from. The others were already claimed though. Besides, at least this boy didn't look as stuck up as some of the others, and something in him told him that this was the place to be.

"Sure, okay." Harry responded, not minding as much as he thought he would at the intrusion. He wondered at the lie but there were worse acting people to be bothered by.

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley." The red head said, holding out his hand.

Harry stared at it a moment, somewhat wary about taking it, but he did. What could an eleven year old know about magic. "Hadyn Potter." Ron's eye twitched, and he decided to nip that right in the bud. "I know, I'm supposedly this bloody Boy-Who-Lived or something but it's all very stupid if you ask me."

Ron nodded, somewhat happy to see that this boy wasn't stuck up because of his title. He took out one of his four chocolate frogs and offered it to him. "Chocolate frog?"

Harry looked at it. "Are they those creepy things that twitch?" he asked, kinda weirded at the idea or eating something that moved.

Ron nodded a positive. "Yeah, but they're not alive. It's just some charm. It wares off after a while though, so you can hold it down and wait for the charm to finish if you just want the chocolate." He stated. "Besides, it's not just the chocolate you want," he assured, "it's not the chocolate that chocolate frogs or so famous for-though it's a real gift-it's the card inside." Ron handed one over to Harry and then took out one for himself. He sat his back down and sat across from Hadyn. "I still need Agrippa. He's the only one I don't have."

Opening the box Ronald professionally grabbed the frog before it could get away and jump out the opened window and stuffed part of it in his mouth without chewing. On the upside of the now empty box there was a picture of a long bearded man smiling benignly with some font below it with is name. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I've got a ton of him already." Ron told Hadyn this only after he bit off a hollow leg of the struggling frog and held it down with his hand so he could pick it apart. Throwing another leg in his mouth, he prepared to read the dialogue to the other boy when someone intruded in their little cubicle.

"Hello," said a girl with bushy brown hair and some odd yellow eyes they only noticed after they looked into them, "There's a boy named Neville who has lost a toad." She nodded to both of them a small greeting, "and I was wondering if any of you have seen one." She said this as a statement but it was obviously a questioning. In effect, Ron tore off a third leg of his charmed chocolate and placed it in his empty mouth. The oddness of that had her staring. She wondered if he had done that on purpose.

Hadyn decided to get that out of his mind. "I'm sorry but there hasn't been one seen in my view." It was an odd way of answering but it got her attention off of the twitchy third leg. He offered his hand and thankfully imperceptibly flinched when she took it. "Hadyn Potter, nice to meech'you."

She frowned. "Isn't it _Harry_ Potter?"

He scowled. "As far as I know my name is _Hadyn_, not _Harry_. No one has even ever called me _Harry_." He carefully arted this as to not provide suspicion or uncomfortable questions about no one ever really calling him a real name either. "I don't know why they say that. If my last name wasn't _Potter_ then maybe I could even escape this bloody Boy-Who-Lived scandal. It's all _very_ stupid."

She blinked at that. "I've read a lot; You're in a few books, Defense of the Darks by Joey Iverson, Looking in the Black by Stan Conway, and Many Battles and Things That Happened by Carow Thompson."

"I am?" Hadyn asked, slightly moody because of this.

"He is?" Ron asked, trying for something smoother than what was about to slip out of his mouth a moment ago.

She looked kinda bewildered at this. "Well, yeah. Didn't you know?"

"No. I never even knew about all of this magic stuff until I got my letter." He looked kinda pasty, angry at something he couldn't name. What he didn't say was that he didn't know very much before his letter; his parents' names, the way they died, what they even looked like (though he did have some kind of idea thanks to his haunting dreams).

Ron was looking at him, unconsciously mirroring Hadyn's thoughts. "You're in books and they didn't even ask you?" he asked in disbelief.

"That's libel if they got anything wrong. And if you're name really isn't Harry then you can most definitely sue. And the amounts of times I've seen your name in the Daily Prophet in the last week that I've known about this other place, odds are you can take that to court as well."

Hadyn kept himself calm. Just because he was out of the Dursley's grip didn't mean he could explode at will. He made a mental note to contact Gringotts for information about laws about using his name before shaking his head. He blinked and turned his attention elsewhere, wanting to get away from the uncomfortable circumstancial converstation that was bound to come up if he continued on that strand of thought. "So, what were you saying about a frog."

She quickly explained about the boy, Neville, that she had met and the frog he was missing. "He's a nice boy but I don't think I've ever met a boy with less confidence. Someone _really_ needs to help him with that."

It was a few minutes later when they saw a bunch of flying colors outside the window, unconsciously looking at the array of moving bits. Apparently someone's trunk was left unlocked or something, as clothes went flying. In mid air, a bird seemed to collide into it, pulling its way through just barely unscathed. It came to peck at the window, not big enough to fly through on its own.

Hadyn frowned. Why would a bird be there for him? It wasn't like he really knew anyone. But, maybe it was from the bank? He lowered the window and the bird came in, ruffled, striding onto the comforters to catch its bearings. They watched it. A black sock was sticking to some feathers and Harry gently applied pressure and tore it away, letting the owl fall slightly the other way. The sock he simply tossed out of the window to join its missing twin in the pile outside, wherever it was.

* * *

TBC 

It's a small piece, I know, but I figured that, why not? I was reading 'A sky far, far away' again (I love that fic but I can't read German and my best translations at the various sites come up in unreadable jumbles) and I remembered this. Reviews are welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

●**Chapter Six**●

On the station to the Hogwarts Express two awkward parents saw their son off. All were expressionless as the adults were unable to show the child love. A trunk and a carry-on bag lay next to them as they said their goodbyes as if they were talking about the news without a care in the world. The boy knew this and heard this and couldn't help but feel slightly hurt, though inwardly he felt they loved him but, as their pureblood duty, did not show such a thing in mixed company.

A small creature with small pointed ears and clothes not more then rags stood behind its masters and mistress with the trunks, ready to clunk them away with the other things. But he saw a bird flying by and in the mix up, a trunk thunked and banged open, clothes flying everywhere. The little creature jumped back and started mumbling to himself. If he took clothes he would be smacked. To be free he needed to be offered clothes.

After a few moments though he saw that his masters paid no attention to the clothing on the floor and the people picking up the belongings and placing them back into the trunk that needed a new latch. It was purely on instinct that the little being stuck his hand out to block something only to have it land and hang from his skinny boney arm. Like a seeker at a snitch, his arm was unseen though the catch had consequences.

The elf stared down at the sock that had been before totally innocent, and he pocketed it. The boy wouldn't miss the sock as the other he could see briefly on the train track. He moved away with a yip unnoticed by the other beings at the station. Later that day Lucius cursed and wondered where the elf had gone, but he had no idea that, because of his stance on blood purity (and a good kick to a trunk that had rolled in his way) his favored house elf to beat up and punish was now free.

And now all the little creature had left to do was find out about who it was that freed him. And then he'd thank them.

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His Hedwig seemed to be glaring ominously at the other and it seemed that Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed her until now.

"Hadyn, I thought birds weren't allowed uncaged on the train." The bushy browned girl said.

"They're not. But I got here early and told the conductor that she was trained to sit on my shoulder constantly, so he let her on. There's no way I'm letting this beauty be in a cage." He replied to Hermione. Hedwig seemed to bask under his praise momentarily.

She looked like she wanted to protest, but Hadyn admired her skill to hold her tongue.

Hadyn took the letter from the owl, seeing the Gringotts seal. "It's from Gringotts, though I don't know why they would be contacting me already." On the cover was simply, _To Hadyn J. Potter_.

Hadyn frowned and opened it. He began reading and froze. In the meantime, two packages appeared from thin air. "What did you get, Hadyn?" Ron asked, looking at the packages curiously.

"It's from my parents," he said, his voice slightly shaky. Hadyn didn't know if he had just want totally unemotional or had showed so much fighting in himself that it would shock anyone but it seemed to freeze both of the other eleven year olds in the compartment, and they were respectively quiet, giving him his time.

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_Dear Kitten, Hadyn, Son; _

_If you've gotten this letter and the two packages, your father and I are most likely dead. The war with Voldemort is going on and hopefully it's finished by the time you receive this. If not, know that we fought it with our lives. _

_All the important things we need to tell you are in the Potter Vault so we'll get quickly to business. Your father is hoping that your dogfathers (Harry wondered at the wording) Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail have successfully taught you and brought you into the pranking business. Although I shudder to see you go around bossing some of the 'filthy Slytherins' as was their motto in school, it would be a welcome thing if you will just remain alive. Their child living is a sane parents' only real want. Well, that and for them to be happy. _

_But I'm truthful with myself even when I don't want to be, and we know there is a traitor in our mist, how Albus doesn't know is beyond me. But I can't see who. Moony seems likely because of his werewolvedness, but I just can't see it. Padfoot is way to close and has come to far from denying the pull of his dark family. Wormtail isn't likely either, meek and loyal as he is… _

_I'm getting off track. In the packages are things your father and I would like you to have. If your godfathers and Alice Longbottom (your godmother and my best friend) haven't given them to you then they should be mailed by the time you get on the Express to Hogwarts. _

_Your Father and I have only one wish, for you to live happily. _

_Love and Happy Days, _

_Your mother, _

_Lily Roselyn"Tigrette" Evans Potter _

_P.S. Your father did grow out of his we-hate-Slytherins routine about fifth year when he grew up. _

_P.P.S. I too am hoping you at least prank a few people, though I'd never admit that to your father. _

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Harry was in shock, though it didn't really show on his face. He had godfathers? Why the wording? Who was the traitor? His father was a Gryffindor then? They appeared to be really biased. There was a lot of shock for him to get over but he was able to toss that to the side and concentrate elsewhere.

He told himself to write Griphook and ask for the goblin to send him some things from the vault. He never got a real chance to look through it before.

He took the nearest package and slowly set it on his lap. It took him a moment to open it, but he gently lifted each fold and looked at what he had. Apparently, this was from his mother. The first was a scrap book, and he lifted the cover to get a first look. He read a small note and the realization that this was a memoir of all of the letters she had ever sent or received took hold, and he closed it and placed it to the side. He'd read over it when he was alone.

There was also a book of poetry. The back of the cover had a love note from his father to his mother knowing how much she adored the stuff. Although his father only had a tiny poetical bone in his body, he used it to make her happy. There was a small silver chain and on it was a ring. He looked it over and realized that it was probably her wedding ring. There was a large diamond with a small combined swirl of red and gold in the middle. It most likely cost quite a lot, quite beautiful as it was. He placed it to the side, determined to look at it and maybe do something with it later.

There was a little match box with a ribboned slip of bother his mother's and his father's hair. He wondered why, but then he notice the tiny written note. _It's mostly unknown but the Evans bloodline has some rampant seer blood. I don't know how or why, but this will come in handy eventually._

There was a parchment left tied in scroll form but Hadyn decided that he'd take a look at it later.

He got to his father's package and opened it just as gently, though less consciously. Hermione and Ron were still talking quietly to one another about Quidditch. He'd ask later.

In his father's package, there was a note like the main from his mother, and he looked at it first.

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_Dear Prongslet, Hadyn, Son; _

_My name is James Potter and I am your father. In school, I am one of what the four of us called "The Marauders." We were a group of pranksters notorious for our constant pranking. No one was safe. Especially the Slytherins I am somewhat proud but sad to say. As children who grew up mostly ignorant of what war entails, we were sadly quite biased. I'm sorry Prongslet but if our luck has anything to say, one Severus Shanties Snape is going to absolutely hate you, and there is nothing we can do about it. I tried to apologize a few times for the constant humiliating pranks when I grew up in sixth year, but the bitter man had nothing of it. _

_I was a proud Gryffindor, and your mother a lioness as well, although she confided in me before our marriage that she could have been in with the snakes. Honestly, I hold no need for you to be in any certain house. Heck, as long as you shock some people, I'll be happy to call you a Slytherin. Since the first time I saw her on the Express, I loved her, and until sixth year she had this burning hatred for me, probably because I asked her out everyday since September First in our third year until she said "yeas" on November 13th in our Sixth year. _

_Anyways, I'm off topic. Pranking is in our blood but if you only have rudimentary skills (which I don't believe you do because two minutes ago, a sixth month old HJP floated Padfoot into the pool when he gave you a bath) you will _need_ to prank. It's a sad thing that it's practically required, but do your best. Prongs (hint-hint, nudge-nudge), Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail will be glad to help you with any problems. But there is a traitor among us, and for the life of me I can't admit any callousness about who it is. We're as close as brothers (Padfoot and Moony are gay, but we try to act like we don't know they're sneaking around to see each other in the middle of the night) and it hurts to believe in betrayal; we're as close as brothers, and as you're the only child any of us believe we'll be alive to have, you are officially Marauder Heir. _

_Before I get mushy, just know that nothing can ruin your image in a parents' eye and that your mother and I love you eternally. _

_Love and Good Prankings, _

_Your father, _

_James Harold "Prongs" Potter _

_P.S. Out of all of our materials, we're still missing the original Marauder's Map, but the second version, which is basically the same, and a copy of it are in the _Marauder's Book of Prank

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TBC.

Im sick. My throat is scratchy and if I talk then I cough. If I cough my lungs hurt. My nose hurts because Ive blown it so many times. I have a low fever. I cough anyway-its a sucky sound. When I breath in the air feels really dry as if there is an old sponge that no longer contains water at the back of my throat.

Im miserable. but I'll give you all something anyways. Enjoy.


End file.
